Our Girl
by organanation
Summary: The night before the battle of Scarif, Bail and Breha discuss the coming war and the bravery of their only daughter. Very mild Rogue One spoilers, and very vague reference to HanxLeia. Only sad if you think about it the right way (the wrong way?).


_AN: This contains some mild Rogue One spoilers-not much, but mentions. You've been warned!_

It was nearing the midnight hour when Bail finally turned off his desk lamp and left his office. The walk up to the chambers he shared with his queen seemed longer tonight, somehow. Maybe it was because every time he passed one of the great windows looking out over the mountains and the clear sky above, the only thing he could think about was how all those stars out there had planets, and all those planets had people, and all those people were being threatened by the government created to protect them. And at this very moment, his little girl was up there, on her way fight a war that had begun before her birth.

Breha was perched regally on the settee, reading, when he entered their spacious chambers. She was dressed in her silky pajamas with her hair unbound over her shoulder. She glanced up from her book when he locked the door and gave him a small smile that he couldn't return.

"I told you I'd be late."

"And I told you that I didn't mind waiting up," she countered.

He put his pajamas on and returned to the main room. Breha set her book on the table beside her.

"What's troubling you?" she asked quietly, extending her hand to him in invitation. He accepted it and sat down on the settee next to her. She traced his knuckles with her thumb.

"I don't want to burden you with my scrambled thoughts on this matter any longer, my love.'

"Lie down," Breha commanded gently. Bail shifted so his head was in her lap and he could look up at her face. Her fingers brushed along his hairline before stopping at his temples to massage lightly. "Tell me, my darling," she prodded again.

"She's ready, Breha. I know she is. But, I can't…we're her _parents._ We're not supposed to be sending her into a _war_."

"I know," she whispered, taking her fingers down his cheeks and combing them through the beginnings of his beard.

"I trust her. I know she'll do whatever she must to bring Kenobi back and be successful on this mission."

"That's what worries me. Everything she will have to do to be successful…knowing she won't hesitate to do something crazy or dangerous…" Breha murmured, thinking of all the times her daughter had gone far above and beyond what was necessary.

"I have to tell you something, my love. I can't hide it from you," Bail stated. Breha's dark eyes bored into his. "They've asked Leia, and she's agreed…she's going to be a vital part in an intel mission tomorrow." He sat up and turned to look Breha in the eyes again.

"Bail…"

"They're over Scarif right now. A group of operatives called the Rogue Squadron is attempting to steal plans to the Empire's superweapon in hopes that analyzing it may help us find a way to defeat it. They think the safest way is to get it to her ship, secretly, as she's going past the system. I went over and over the plans today with the rest of the command, love. I think it's going to work."

"I hardly care about the success or failure of this mission, Bail. Is our daughter going to be alright?" He took her hands into her lap and rubbed them comfortingly with his thumbs.

"That's the beauty of this plan, Breha. Unless something terrible happens, she'll be in very little danger, compared to most of the others. Officially, she's on a consular mission for the Senate. She should be given diplomatic immunity. Her route to Tattooine sends her right through the area, minimizing suspicion. I can only hope that we've foreseen every possibility. Still, she's been briefed on every possibility and she assured me she was ready for anything."

"I doubt we'd be able to keep her away from somewhere she knows she's needed," Breha answered quietly. Bail murmured his agreement, settling his head back on his wife's legs.

"That's how we raised her," Bail murmured.

"I wouldn't want her to be any other way," Breha conceded. Her husband smiled sadly in agreement, wrapping his fingers in the ends of her long, dark hair. They were both quiet for a moment, taking in the affections of the other.

Stars, but he loved this woman. They'd been quite lucky as far as their marriage went: it was an arranged marriage, but they'd fallen madly in love. He'd loved her since the day they'd met over a quarter-century ago, and his affection had only increased in the intermittent time. She'd constantly been his rock, the sole thing that grounded him in the entire, crazy galaxy. He couldn't even begin to count the nights they'd spent like this, sitting up and talking through things. Bail gently pulled her face down for a kiss.

"When she and Kenobi return, you'll go, won't you?" she asked quietly. "You'll go to lead the rebellion?" She began sweeping his hair off his forehead.

"Yes. It's my duty."

"You'll write me every day, of course," she teased wistfully, resting her hand on his chest.

"Of course, my darling," He stroked her cheek lovingly. "Pages and pages of my love, how much I miss you…" Breha bent to kiss him again. His eyes remained closed when she sat up and returned her fingers to their dance across his scalp.

"Are you ready to go to bed?" she murmured, the sound of her voice making his eyes drift open again.

"I'd follow you anywhere, my love. However, I may need some help getting untangled, first," he added, looking to where the ends of her hair were caught around his rings. She worked the strands free and he stood slowly, offering his hand. His queen accepted it and led him to their bed. Bail kissed her sweetly as they drew the blankets up, his hand falling protectively to her hip as they settled into the bed.

"Promise me that this is worth it," Breha begged quietly.

"I promise, my darling. Leia's children will live in a better galaxy, my love. Our grandchildren will live freely because of what we're doing, what she's doing."

"Grandchildren…that does sound nice, doesn't it?"

"It sure does. I wonder who she'll bring home…She's never shown interest in any of the other noble houses," Bail smiled over his pillow.

"Probably someone from the rebellion. She's going to visit you on base one day and fall in love with a greasy pilot crawling around in the engine of his x-wing."

"Hush, Breha," Bail teased.

"Well, we need the son-in-law before we get the grandchildren, Bail, and I'd certainly rather have a greasy pilot married to my only daughter than a politician twice her age," the queen reasoned.

"As long as she's happy with him, I don't care what he does."

"She'll be fine."

"She's our girl, my love. Of course she'll be alright."

 _AN: I'd love to know what you think, as this is the first non-Hanxleia piece I've published!_


End file.
